


A Guilty Conscience Needs No Accuser

by cuddlesome



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Anxiety, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hugs, Kissing, Nonbinary Character, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesome/pseuds/cuddlesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddling isn’t supposed to result in stomachaches or guilt-ridden confessions or mascara-blackened tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guilty Conscience Needs No Accuser

**Author's Note:**

> Arrives fifteen minutes late with Starbucks and a fic for my otp that’s a non-despair AU because, damn it, these sweet children should be able to get snuggly without fear of tragic death.

By some miracle “Byakuya” learns how to kiss so that Ibuki’s piercings don’t prick their lips. Needless to say, getting blood all over their jacket after one of her studs tore their lower lip thoroughly ruins the mood, even after the gash was doctored by Mikan.

At the moment she’s taken her piercings off, earrings included, and they’ve done the same with their glasses so there’s no chance of her clacking her face against them by accident like last time.

Their kissing skills are still a bit stiff, but under Ibuki’s leadership they’re getting the hang of it. Strangely enough, next to hand holding, kissing is the form of intimate contact they’re most comfortable with, though that may be due to the fact that Ibuki hasn’t introduced tongues into the equation yet. She seems content with prolonged lip presses until they’re ready for the deeper stuff--though she did once blow a raspberry on their belly, much to their chagrin.

Right now, what they feel most concerned about is ironically what Ibuki claims they’re the best at: snuggling.

As per usual they’re sitting on the bed, back to the headboard, peppy girlfriend in their lap.

“Hyaaaaah. a) A peach b) Bee’s knees c) Cat’s pajamas. You’re d) All of the above.” Ibuki croons she wraps her arms and legs as far as she can reach around their middle—which, admittedly, isn’t very far, but a valiant effort all the same—and rests her face against their chest. “Byakuya is always the best to cuddle with, so comfy and warm. Ibuki couldn’t ask for any better… and even if she could, she wouldn’t!”

They bite their tongue to keep from launching into a speech about the way fat changes body temperature and instead let out a harrumph of acknowledgement. It seems far too apathetic, even taking into consideration the prickly personality they’re meant to have, so they launch into a reply.

“I also enjoy it when we…” There’s no possible way to say it without sounding odd, but they press on anyway. “When we... c-cuddle.”

Ibuki draws back with a gasp, eyes wide, and for a long moment they’re terrified they somehow did something horribly wrong.

She presses one hand to the side of her face, then uses the other to point at them and say: “Byakuya just stuttered.”

After recovering from their initial mixture of surprise at what she’d said and relief that it hadn’t been something worse, they huff, “I did not.”

“Nope, Ibuki’s super ears never deceive her! Byakuya stuttered as a result of the boundless charms of Ibuki Mioda,” she crows and rocks back and forth on their thighs, looking far too pleased with herself. “Don’t be embarrassed, that was one of the most wonderful things Ibuki has ever heard, seconded only by the sound of Ibuki’s lovely singing voice.”

They’ve learned by now not to question her seemingly random systems of both comparison and ranking. “My collar is on too tight. It's making it difficult to breathe, so I may have hesitated while speaking.”

“Suuuuure, okay, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Nevertheless, her hands go to their collar and she begins the process of getting both their tie and the upper part of their shirt undone. They weren’t being dishonest when they claimed their collar was on too tight, it squeezes their thick throat to the point of discomfort on a daily basis. Having some buttons unfastened is a relief.

Once she's opened a few inches of the shirt, Ibuki becomes unusually quiet. She nibbles the area where her spider bite piercings usually are, eyebrows furrowed. Then she reaches out and runs her fingertip over a red mark just under their second chin where the fabric dug into them.

"Ouch." Ibuki shakes her head. "You need a different shirt, Byakuya. Maybe the game designers will give you something less form fitting next time."

She doesn’t stop after the topmost buttons as they expected, instead going a little over a quarter of the way down the shirt, humming to herself. They swallow, then immediately pray it doesn’t sound as loud to her as it does to them.

Just as Ibuki begins to breach the region past their chest they fold their arms, barring her from making any more progress. “Oy, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you just want to undress me.”

“Shoot, Byakuya caught on to Ibuki’s master plan.” She puts her hands up in surrender, managing to pull an ashamed face for all of half a second before she bursts into a fit of giggles and gives them another hug, pressing the side of her face to the exposed sliver of skin.

After a brief moment of hesitance they awkwardly unfold their arms and put them around her to return the embrace, stiff as someone hugging an older relative they can’t remember. Their recuperation of affection still seems indifferent more than ever in comparison to her enthusiasm, and internally they cringe.

Their complete and utter lack of proper shows of fondness isn’t the only cringeworthy thing, either.

Her hands and fingers are svelte, far more suited to playing chords than touching someone like them, they think even as she rests those fingers on their  pudgy sides. As a general rule they don't feel self-conscious about their body. Depending on the personality of the person they pose as, they even celebrate their appearance. She seems to like that attitude at least, if her continuous declarations about how “cool” they are can be taken into account. Still, they wonder whether or not it’s just their façade doing the talking half of the time.

At the moment their confidence, both real and borrowed from the persona of Byakuya Togami, has all but fizzled out. They can feel the arc of her spine and the jut of her shoulder blades, sharp and bony beneath their far fleshier hands as they hug her against them. She seems so breakable all of the sudden. Treating Ibuki like glass is out of the question, they want to provide adequate caresses to return hers, but even if they managed to do that there would be more problems.

The real Byakuya Togami probably isn’t a cuddler. Scratch that, the real Byakuya Togami is most definitely not a cuddler.

They strive not to break character too much out of habit, a practice that they doubt they will ever be able to fully drop. Every time they so much as walk with Ibuki, much less speak, they’re attempting not to wander too far from how Byakuya would act. Then again, he wouldn’t let himself get in this deep, some part of them reprimands. They’re sure he would have blown her off long before they got to the point of holding hands and kissing and… other things…

They need to change their identity again, they decide. It’s becoming too difficult to find some semblance of balance between the aloofness radiating from their current impersonation and the tender affection that the “real” them—whoever that is—wants to show her.

Utilizing their talent came with its own complications. They would have to tell Ibuki, admit that they’d effectively been lying to her and everyone else on the island since the beginning.

What if she thinks that their feelings for her are a put-on, too?

A stewing pool of anxiety is forming deep in the pit of their gut, a sensation far worse than overfullness or even hunger.

They never let anyone get this close to them before, didn’t allow themselves to be this exposed. She’s taking off their disguise piece by piece without even realizing. Soon enough she’d smear their makeup or shift their wig. Or, even worse, they would muddle up something with a voice crack or the loss of one of their contact lenses, and... and then...

Then this girl, this wonderful, strange girl will know that they’re a nameless, faceless nobody whose only defining characteristics are a love of food, a physique made impressive only by its overwhelming weight, and a knack for identity theft to make up for their lack of one to start with. They’re not worth looking twice at except to be derided, but here they are, trying to pass themselves off as someone as powerful and sure of himself as Byakuya Togami.

Quite suddenly Ibuki cups the ample curve of one of their cheeks. “Something up, Byakuya? You seem kinda sad."

“I..." Don't back out. Don't. "...need to tell you something. Something important.”

Confessing is the best way to go. Confessing is better than an unplanned discovery. Right..?

They tried to tell Hinata the truth, once. At the time, he was the only one they got close to. Hinata seemed to possess the uncanny ability to make friends with and gain the trust of most everyone, and it was no different for them. But, sure enough, their nerve failed them. The walls came back up. In two seconds flat "Byakuya Togami" brushed Hinata off and proceeded to give him the cold shoulder broken only by derisive remarks until he left them alone.

A repeat performance with Ibuki would not be acceptable.

Their stomach heaves with another wave of worry and suddenly they wonder if they’re going to make themselves retch from the sheer amount of emotional distress. They hate when they do that, such a waste of food--but that isn’t important right now, they just need to tell her and get it over with.

“I haven’t been... honest with you. With anyone.”

They’d never outright confessed. A couple of times they were caught in their impersonation scheme, before they reached the super high school level of expertise they have now. They were forced to make a run for it--and, oh, can they move given the right motivation, with agility and stamina that belies their ponderous build. Running right now isn’t an option, unfortunately for their jittery nerves, not with Ibuki staring at them, mouth hanging open in a perfect little “o”, inches away from their face.

“As a matter of fact, I’m what most call…” They try and fail to look away from her inquisitive gaze, then cross their arms as if to bar themselves from her. “...an impostor."

“Ah..?” She tilts her head, nibbling at the holes where her spider bite piercings once were again.  “What do you mean, Byakuya? Ibuki has never seen you posing as someone you’re not before.”

Their voice is soft and wavering and decidedly un-Byakuya-Togami-like when they speak again. “You’ve always seen me posing as someone I’m not.”

“Wha--oh. Ohhh.”

It’s a load off their back that Ibuki’s reacting with mere surprise as opposed to the hostility they are usually met with at the revealing of their talent. Even now she maintains the same closeness as before, as if nothing has changed, as if she hasn’t just been told she’s in a relationship with a con artist whose life is based on identity theft.

They look away; it hurts to look at her wholehearted expression.

Everything comes out in a rush.

Their childhood spent alone and confused, the name of the first person they impersonated, the times they were caught in the act, when they got away with living with the same stolen identity for years, their shock at being admitted to Hope’s Peak, the way they so admired Byakuya Togami--

All the while, Ibuki remains attentive but eerily silent. When they run out of things to say, they still can’t even bring themselves to look at her face for long enough to read her expression. Even unburdened of their secrets--most of them, anyway, there are some things they’ve done that they can’t even admit to themselves, let alone Ibuki--they feel inconsolable levels of guilt.

Only one thing left to do.

The contacts go first. Then they start rubbing hard at their face with their wrist, getting countless layers of foundation and more than a little mascara and eyeliner smeared on their white sleeve. Their makeup is designed to be protected from hardships (sweat resistant, heat resistant, transfer resistant, everything to guarantee it wouldn’t come off at an inopportune time), right down to the primer.

Even so, not all of it can stand up to their mixture of determination, and, embarrassingly enough, some tears.

They want to struggle out of the suit and rip it to shreds; it feels so tight all of a sudden, like it’s stifling them. Taking the wig off and hurling it halfway across the room will have to suffice.

Ibuki rolls off of them at some point; they’re not entirely sure when. She's telling them to breathe, and dimly they realize they've been shortening their breaths in an effort not to start crying in earnest.

They let out a long, shuddering sigh. For a long moment they think they might just be able to recover. Then they make the mistake of meeting her gaze and like an old dam they break.

They taught themselves how to force tears before, for the few times they'd played roles that required it. This is nothing like those instances, as their throat has closed up completely and their face is a mess that's only going to get messier--

Oh, no. Their face.

She can see their features, their facial structure that’s so unimpressive it’s almost too easy to manipulate to mimic others. In their opinion, this face is made interesting exclusively due to the blubbery flesh that rounds out their cheeks and gathers under their chin.

Some impostor you turned out to be, a voice that sounds entirely too much like Byakuya Togami sneers in the back of their mind. You not only broke character, but you're having a complete meltdown, overgrown child that you are. And for what? So you won’t feel quite as bad for lying to some girl? You're worthless; I know it, you know it, and now she knows it too.

They wince at the last sentiment.

Ibuki hasn’t left yet, though. They take some small comfort in that. She even goes so far as to move so she’s right in front of them again, trying to catch their gaze.

They want to go back to twenty minutes ago when the worst problem they had was a stomache ache and insecurity in their abilities to cuddle.

Suddenly, Ibuki gets on her knees and reaches up towards their face. They recoil out of instinct.

She retracts her hands. “Hey, Ibuki’s not gonna hurt you or anything. Sorry she didn’t ask first… can Ibuki touch your face?”

Her tone resonates with complete seriousness. They want to say yes, but their voice box feels leaden, so they nod instead. They stay still when she reaches out again.

Ibuki wipes away the half-dry tears, tinted grayish black with mascara, from their cheeks with her thumbs.

“Can Ibuki kiss you?”

They nod again, just barely managing to choke out a “yes” as they do so.

She cups the full sides of their face, then follows up with a quick peck to each cheek, one to the end of their nose, and finally a kiss full on the lips. The last is long and sweet and they press back against her, venturing to put a hand on the small of her back and the other on one of her shoulders.

They’re not sure which one of them draws back first, but they decide it doesn’t matter. One way or another, they end up staring into Ibuki’s earnest eyes.

“Do you... hate me?” It seems like such a naïve thing to ask when the words come out of their mouth, but they still want to hear the answer.

“Hate you? The day Ibuki hates you will be the day hell becomes overpopulated with snowballs.” Ibuki says, clucking her tongue. “Of course Ibuki doesn't hate you. If anything, she’s thankful you privileged her by telling her about yourself.”

“I didn’t lie about--about how I feel about you,” they whisper, finally bringing to light what they’ve been worrying about. “I’ve never been in a relationship with anyone for this exact reason. But with you, I couldn’t help but…”

They trail off. She grabs their hand, interlocking her ring-covered fingers with theirs and squeezing tightly.

“Ibuki knows. You couldn’t have been untruthful when you accepted Ibuki’s invitation to go out on a date when she sang outside your window at one in the morning, or when we fed each other McDonald’s, or when we tried to dance and Ibuki had to stand on your toes, or all those times when we baked boob cookies with Teru or, or, or, or, or, or, or,--did you count how many ‘or’s? You have to include the ones from before, too--that time you carried Ibuki out of a karaoke bar when she was totally smashed.” Ibuki pauses to breathe for all of a half second. “Ibuki knows you must have been sincere about that last thing especially, since she almost puked on you but you still cleaned her up and put her to bed anyway.”

In that moment, they confirm that the inner monologue with the voice of Byakuya is wrong. "Some girl" isn't an adept way to describe Ibuki Mioda.

For once they initiate an embrace, attempting to convey their gratefulness all in the gesture. Their paranoia of breaking some part of her delicate frame with their bulk by accident hasn’t faded, though, so the intensity of the hug remains loose at best. Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to matter to her.

“From now on, Ibuki would like to address you good and proper.” Ibuki declares, words muffled slightly as she speaks against their chest. “If you don’t mind her asking, what’s your real name?”

The same question they’d been asking themselves for years.

“I’m... the Ultimate Impostor. I know that’s a title and not a name, but it’s all I have."

Ibuki peers up at them from beneath her jagged bangs. “Do you want Ibuki to give you a different name to go by? You don’t seem to like that title. Ibuki can come up with something snazzy and sexy, perfect for you.”

Without their makeup to hide behind, she can probably see the blush spreading unfiltered across their face. "I'd like that.”

A suggestion from Ibuki would be welcomed, considering the closest thing they’ve had to a name is the unflattering nickname Hiyoko dubbed them with. Assuming they ever have their own identity that warrants naming, anyway. In Ibuki's eyes, it seems they already do.

They can’t help but smile at the notion, stomach overcome with a fuzzy sensation still somewhat uncomfortable but paradoxically pleasant; the same sort of warm feeling they had when Ibuki first asked them out. Hereafter there won’t be their lifestyle of lies hanging over their nice, if somewhat corny, relationship with their girlfriend.


End file.
